


The Lost Weekend

by Morteamore



Series: The Ties That Bind [3]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Collars, Creampie, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Footjob, M/M, Nyotaimori, Oral Sex, Restraints, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Stockings, Threesome - M/M/M, ballgag, discussion of multiple partners, flogger, semi-public groping, switch rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Having been dating Rhys for almost a year, Handsome Jack throws a party for him in honor of completion of his and Vasquez's side project. When a discussion at said party hints that Jack apparently would allow a 'plus one' in their relationship, Rhys becomes curious as to who that person might be. Later, back at his penthouse, Jack reveals he has a surprise in store for Rhys, which turns into a weekend full of BDSM antics involving a new addition to their bedroom.Sequel toSafeword
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Series: The Ties That Bind [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459663
Kudos: 22





	The Lost Weekend

As far as parties went on Helios, this one was on the subdued side.

Standing at the corner of the bar, one elbow leaned back against it, Rhys tried to appear as casual as he could manage. There was a grin on his face with a good amount of wobble to it, his stance awkward. In his hand, he held a long stemmed wine glass. The contents within trembled every now and then, arm restless, his fingers fidgeting. Around him, people huddled up or flitted about from group to group, his place strategic, at least for the moment. Here, tucked into the shadows of the lowlit room, separated from the social scene unfolding before him, Rhys could hide in plain sight.

At least for a short time. Eventually, someone would come looking for him, would find him. And that eventual person turned out to be Hugo Vasquez. His co-worker and project development partner sauntered up beside him, bumping him with a shoulder. The drink in Rhys’ hand almost went tumbling to the floor. 

“Standing in the corner all on your lonesome, Rhys?” he asked, taking up residence beside him. His own drink was raised to his mouth, the clear, bubbly substance dressed with a sprig of green leaf pouring smoothly past his lips. “That’s no way to celebrate now, is it? The mojitos here are to die for. You should try one.”

“Er, I don’t….” Rhys hastily gulped down a mouthful of wine. “I don’t like those.”

An incredulous look was shot Rhys’ way. The other man inclined his head, regarding Rhys with a scrutinizing expression.

“Come on, everybody loves mojitos. They’re festive and refreshing. Much more suited to a release party than that boring red wine.” A pause from the man as he stuck his hand in his pocket. “We should be enjoying this as much as we can. We’ve earned it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that twice,” Rhys was quick to answer. He opened his mouth to say more, but then his torso seemed to lock in place, a shudder possessing him seconds later. Wine went cascading over the rim of his glass, splashing the carpet beneath their feet. Thankfully, between the dark color and the low light, the soaking stain was impossible to see. “Could you…uhm…maybe come back here a little later? Mingle for a bit. Schmooze. Do what Vasquez things you’d do at a party. I need some time to myself.”

Vasquez tilted his head, slapped a hand on to his shoulder, and leaned in closer.

“Alright, something’s up,” he said, his voice hushed so he couldn’t be overheard. Not that there was much chance of that in the packed room. “Mind sharing with me, or am I going to sit here for half the night trying to pry it out of you?”

“Funny you should say that,” Rhys began, his elbow pulling away from the bar, finger held in the air to emphasize his words. “That’s—oh my god, he didn’t.”

Rhys set his wine down on the bar with a slam. Thankfully the glass was thick enough that the force didn’t shatter it. It certainly would have had he used his bionic hand. His eyes were fixed on a point in the center of the room, and when Vasquez followed his gaze, he paused in his drinking.

Walking across the room was a figure wrapped in a short kimono, their physique thin, short legs on full display from shapely thigh to wooden-sandaled foot. They were shaped androgynously, making it impossible to tell their gender. Until they reached a low and long table draped in white linens, that was. There, two very muscular, very intimidating men helped them out of the kimono, revealing that it was indeed a young man. Half expecting someone to come toting silk ropes, ready to put on a shibari show, Rhys was surprised when all he did was simply lay down on his back along the table. The buff men snapped on surgical gloves, the wait staff handing them sponges, which were assumed dampened. In unison, they washed the man down, leaving him to dry for a minute or so. With the aid of the other staff, gigantic green leaves with frilled edges were placed strategically along the man’s body, covering his most erogenous zones first. Then came the sushi, choice cuts of glistening seafood in thick slabs or over pats of rice settled atop the leaves in an artistic display. Between the man’s enticing form, the craftsmanship of the sushi, and the overall aesthetic, it was like watching a work of art being assembled. As absurd as it was, Rhys’ stomach gave a rumbling growl.

Still holding on to him, Vasquez was shaking his head.

“I think Handsome Jack just sent you dinner,” he commented, smirking. “Where is your main squeeze these days, anyway?”

Rhys was mopping at his brow, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. He could feel the trickles of moisture running down alongside his face, tickling the port in his temple as they did so.

“Mingling with the old money this place reeks of,” he said, gesturing to the crowd. Sure enough, out among one of the various huddles, a familiar swoop streaked with gray could be spotted. Handsome Jack could also be heard, his laugh carrying like distant music across the room. Rhys muttered as he pushed away from the bar, “I need some air. Preferably air that doesn’t reek of older businessmen and a man with fish slapped across his crotch.”

That’s when Rhys heard the ringing sound. At first, it confused him, as he didn’t know why a phone would be ringing here of all places. Then it dawned on him. He reached into his inner suit pocket, pulling out the culprit. 

“Hey, Rhys!” came a voice from his comm. He’d ducked into the cocktail parlor, taken a seat at one of the empty tables there. Here there was a bar as well, currently unmanned. The room was empty and Rhys had it all to himself, though he could still see into the main ballroom. “It’s been too damn long. How have you been?”

“Vaughn, hey.” It was hard not to be uplifted by Vaughn’s voice on the other end of the call, even though Rhys had been dipping toward uncomfortable. “How are you? Does the apartment feel totally empty without me in it now?”

“Don’t remind me. I keep expecting to be woken up my Seamus mewling for his breakfast and jumping on top of me. And I really haven’t found anyone to take the spare room yet. But forget about that. You did it. You totally successfully funded the game, and it’s coming out and everything! It must feel amazing to keep telling yourself that.” The bearded man adjusted his tie, which had become crooked in his excitement, and jabbed a thumb at the sushi display that could be seen in the distance. “Also, what’s with the human sushi platter?”

“That’s—that’s a joke. Between me and Jack. We were discussing nyotaimori during one of our initial dates. Or I mentioned it.” Rhys made a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter. It became an inside joke.”

“Some joke. Is that what we’re having for dinner? Because if we are, you and I can sneak out and grab some burgers.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. The finger foods haven’t even come out yet.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I called to say me and Yvette will be running a bit late. Sorry, bro, but it was the dry cleaner, then that was after being stuck at work, and—”

Vaughn’s diatribe was suddenly cut off as the comm was lifted from Rhys’ grasp. He balked, turning swiftly around in his seat to confront his assaulter, surprised when he saw that it was Jack himself.

“Oh, er, hey, Jack,” he said, his gaze shifting around the room. When he realized his boyfriend was without his cronies, he let out an enormous lungful of air, swiping at his clammy forehead. “You have to let me turn this thing off. Oh, man, it’s _uncomfortable_.”

Lifting his highball glass, Jack sipped from it, the look on his face twisted in contemplation.

“Is it now?” he asked, voice deep and sultry from the alcohol. “Why don’t you let me check to see what’s going on there. Stand up.”

“I hardly see how you _checking it out_ is going to help me,” Rhys said, voice resigned as he stood up anyway. His eyes rolled in his head like loose marbles and he sighed. “Just be gentle, okay?”

There was a sudden slap to Rhys’ buttocks that made him grunt. Over his shoulder, he shot Jack a scowl.

“I said to be gentle.”

“What, with the ass that belongs to _me_?” A smirk came to play on Jack’s face. His palm fanned out across one of Rhys’ ass cheeks, groping, kneading. “All joking aside, if we weren’t at a party that’s literally being thrown for you—”

“And Vasquez,” Rhys corrected. “I couldn’t have done this without him.”

“For _you_ ,” Jack reiterated pointedly, “By _me_ , I’d bend you over this cocktail table and replace that buttplug with my dick.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I haven’t even mingled yet. Besides, that isn’t really helping the problem. I’d like to be able to sit down properly, not make the situation worse.”

“Tell ya what. I’ll fuck you gently. No rough stuff. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

“No, I don’t think so. Just please turn it off. I’ve got to make a good impression.”

“Good impression my ass. Or your ass, actually.” There was a braying laugh from Jack. “These guys already love ya. There’s nobody to impress. Come on, cupcake. You ain’t been tapped out yet.”

“Jeez, Jack, you’re an absolute horndog tonight.” A laugh from Rhys, albeit a shaky one, his lips sobering just as quickly. “You can wait till after the party’s over. And at least shut off the plug if you’re not going to let me take it out. You’ve had your fun.”

“Nuh uh. Seeing that sushi display got me all riled up. I got a chubbie just pretending that was you up there.” As if on cue, Jack’s hand shifted from Rhys’ ass to his crotch, smoothing over the silken material of his slacks. Rhys hissed in a breath. “Looks like I’m not the only one in that state. Seems that vibe plug’s doing what I paid good money for it to do.”

“Fine. Leave it on, I guess,” Rhys said, shoulders sagging as he resigned himself to his fate. “If I cum in my pants, you have nobody to blame but yourself.”

A large, warm palm cupped the outline of Rhys’ erection, running along the shaft. It was as if Rhys’ hips were bent on betraying him. They bucked of their own accord, a sigh becoming a stifled groan as he arched up against Jack’s touch.

Leaning forward, Jack’s lips found Rhys’ ear, his voice a rumbling purr. “That feel good, cupcake? You need me to relieve some of that tension?”

Instead of answering, Rhys reached out, grasping Jack’s arm.

“You always get your way, don’t you?” Rhys remarked, an edge beginning to form in his voice.

The grin that made a slow crawl across Jack’s face was smug. “Of course. Why do you think we’ve been dating for almost a year?”

“Ha, funny. And here I thought I was here of my own free will.” Prying Jack away from himself, Rhys stepped back from the man, patting him on the shoulder. “Regardless, this is one time where you’re definitely _not_ getting your way. I’m going to go mingle with whoever you’ve invited here.”

“In the state you’re in? You won’t last fifteen minutes until you’re coming back to me to shut that thing off before you pop.”

“Sometimes the way you put things is impeccable, Jack.”

“I know, right? It’s like I’m a whiz at the wide world of wording. That was alliteration, by the way.”

“I know what it is.” Finally heading back in the direction of the party, Rhys’ steps were deliberate, measured. It was clear he was trying (and failing) to keep his composure. “Turn off the vibe or don’t. I’ll manage either way.”

There was a sigh of one long-suffering, a snort, and a shuffle of feet. Jack muttered to himself and reached into his suit coat for something in the hidden pocket there. Suddenly, Rhys was flooded with a relief so deep he nearly buckled to his knees with the force of it. It took him a moment or two to realize it was just the plug falling to stillness and not an actual orgasm. At this point, the sensations might as well have been one in the same. He leaned against a doorframe, closing his eyes a second.

“I’d ask if I can take it out now, but I think that’d be pushing my luck,” he said, still in hearing distance to Jack.

“It would, pumpkin.” Coming up beside him, Jack boxed him in, holding out a black fob with a few small buttons embedded in it. “However, I’m not without my own sense of mercy. You can have the keys to the kingdom. This way you know you can trust me not to sabotage your schmoozing.”

A knowing grin passed on Rhys face as he wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Knowing you, you probably have a backup model tucked away somewhere.”

Jack kept his expression straight when he hummed and said, “Maybe. Bottom bitch like you will just have to find out.”

His palm flush to Jack’s chest, Rhys’ fingers creased the material as they roamed over to a nipple, pinching and tugging through the material. “You know damn well that’s not always our agreed dynamic.”

Rhys’ fingers were snatched up. Without ceremony, Jack brought them to his lips. A moment later, they were being sucked between them, tongue dancing over finger pads. Glancing over Jack’s shoulder, Rhys took note of how close in proximity they were to the main ballroom. If anyone there happened to look in the direction of this particular spot, they would be discovered.

“I have to shake people’s hands with that hand,” Rhys said, voice flat.

There was a wet popping sound as Jack pulled off Rhys’ digits. He sighed dramatically. “Things were just getting good, babe.”

“Kind of?” Rhys sighed as well, wiping his hand with the handkerchief in his breast pocket. He held it out afterward. “Can I have my comm back?”

The comm device was handed over. “I hung up on your short buddy there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not. Though that wasn’t very cool of you.”

“Shorty knows the deal by now.” Jack shrugged, turning to partially face the ballroom. “If he gets butthurt over bullshit like that, than I say you need better friends.”

“You know he doesn’t _by now_. And my friends are just fine the way they are.”

“So, uh, what’s Vasquez, then? Cause I’m pretty sure he don’t fall under that category.”

“Of course my _business partner_ doesn’t. Stop trying to rile me up.”

A hand came down in the stiff coif of Rhys’ hair, attempting to send the strands into disarray. Thankfully Rhys had used a good amount of mousse and spray that night, so his hair stayed firmly in place as he shooed the hand away.

“I like you when you’re riled,” Jack commented. “Makes things just _that_ more interesting.”

“Sorry that you find me boring otherwise.” Straightening the lapels of his suit coat, Rhys began to walk towards the gaggles of people that had broken off and huddled together, some having taken refuge at the provided assigned tables.

“That’s not what I was saying,” Jack insisted, following him.

They passed the living sushi display, the figure laying stock still, eyes glassy and unblinking as he stared at the high ceiling. Guests came by on occasion, plucking pieces of vivid, glistening choice samples of fish from his person with chopsticks, popping them directly in their mouths. Some stopped to hold conversations while they ate from the living buffet, servers ferrying fresh leaves and sushi to replace the used and eaten ones. Something about the display unnerved Rhys. Maybe it was that he found it totally unhygienic. He turned away so he didn’t have to stare at it. Being a sushi platter for Jack’s partaking would’ve been one thing. Actually eating off of one? He didn’t have the stomach for that.

One of them was perfectly fine with it, though. Snapping up a pair of disposable chopsticks, Jack snatched sushi from atop the man like a bandit, shoving the pieces into his mouth as if they were edible gold. 

They reached their table at the head of the room, Rhys hesitating as he pulled a chair out to sit down. Vasquez was already seated there, speaking to a dark-haired woman in a pretty burgundy dress. A date? Rhys caught a glimpse of something glimmering on her finger, realizing it was a wedding band with some surprise. Even though him and Vasquez had fucked around, the man _had_ mentioned a wife once or twice. Rhys had no idea if they had an open marriage or if Vasquez was a cheating scumbag, and he wasn’t about to pry at the moment.

“Rhys, Jack, was wondering where you might have run off to. There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.” Sitting back, Vasquez stretched his arm out across the back of the woman’s chair. With the other, he gestured towards her. “This is my better half, Andrea.”

With careful and stiff movements, Rhys finally sat down, trying to hide the wince that crossed his features. Fortunately, nobody seemed to catch it. Save for Jack, who smiled to himself, heterochromatic eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Andrea said in a slight accent, a small, pleasant smile on her face. There was something about it that was off to Rhys, as if she were keeping a vicious pair of fangs hidden. “Always wanted to meet Handsome Jack in the flesh. Hughie here said he could make it happen. Eventually. And it looks like he did. After ages, that is.”

“Aw, I told you never to call me that in public, hunny.”

“Oh, this isn’t public, sweetie,” she said with a flourish of an elegantly gloved hand. “These are your friends, are they not?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then stop with the prattle. Love what you did with the young man there and the sushi. Maybe a bit too fresh faced for my tastes, or I’d be dragging him home to our bed. Oh well. Maybe I can get Hughie in that position instead. Though he’s not really into it as much as I am, I think. Shame.”

Perking up, Jack glanced at Rhys. “You don’t say?” he asked. “Funny you should mention that. You see, only reason that display is there at all? Rhysiecakes and me, we had this discussion about-”

“Boy, my friends are _really_ late,” Rhys interceded, rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “I should probably go and, er, check to…to see if they’ve arrived.”

All eyes at the table were suddenly on Rhys. He let out a nervous titter, moving to stand up. Before he could move his chair out, Jack caught it and held it in place.

“Don’t be rude,” he said, nodding across to Vasquez and Andrea. “I’m sure your friends will be able to find us no problem once they get here. We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Rhys muttered, settling back, another wince crossing his features as he accidentally adjusted at the worst possible angle. His hands came to fold upon the tabletop, gaze traveling downward. “I’m just…honestly, I’m not really comfortable discussing this stuff here around people I don’t know.”

“Oh, Hugo, you didn’t tell me your business partner was such a puritanical boy. I just want to take him home and corrupt the hell out of him.”

Almost as soon as the words dropped, Vasquez was opening his mouth to do damage control. On his thigh, Rhys felt a warm palm come to rest there, gripping him tightly, possessively.

Jack spoke before Vasquez could even get a word in. “Sorry, sweetcheeks, but there’s only one ‘plus one’ I’m gonna let in our bed.” The hand traveled higher upward, reaching around to caress Rhys’ inner thigh. Out of instinct, Rhys spread his legs further, only realizing what he was doing a moment later. Fingers graced his crotch and he fought hard not to gasp out loud. Surely Vasquez and his wife knew what was going on beneath the table cloth. “And you ain’t them. No offense. I just really don’t like sharing.”

“None taken. Though I do have to wonder who on Helios could be so lucky, sharing both Handsome Jack’s bed and his cute boyfriend’s.”

Having turned to Jack, Rhys was staring at him, his own burning question hanging unspoken on the air. He himself had no clue who Jack might be talking about.

“Who says they’re on Helios?” Jack sprung back with, rummaging in his pants pocket with his one free hand. He fished out a golden cigarette case and an equally gold lighter, setting them on the table. The latch of the case was pried open with the pad of Jack’s thumb, revealing a neat row of cigarillos. “And I can’t disclose who they are. That is literally classified information.”

Okay, now Rhys was _really_ curious.

“How mysterious,” Vasquez’s wife said, smiling slyly.

Coming up from behind her were two figures that made Rhys break out in a grin of his own. As they reached the table and pulled out chairs, their eyes centered on the living sushi display in the middle of the room, he’d almost forgotten about Jack’s hand secretly caressing him under the table. 

“Vaughn, Yvette,” Rhys said, and he was proud when his voice didn’t warble.

“So good to have you both finally join us,” Vasquez said in a perfectly suave yet condescending tone. He introduced his wife, hand shakes exchanged between the three. 

A waiter came around, then, carrying some delicate slices of meat on tiny pieces of toast accompanied by slivers of fruit that he claimed were pear and quail crosstini. Vaughn took a handful of them and arranged them on the appetizer plate before him. Yvette crunched her’s with a speculative expression on her face. 

“So glad you could make it,” Rhys was saying to them. “I was afraid I’d have to endure this party with only the company of Jack and Vasquez.”

“You know you love having me here,” Jack said as he puffed from one of the cigarillos and squeezed. Rhys almost leapt up as the man’s warm palm wrapped tightly around his erection. He was just happy the other man hadn’t undone his pants yet. “Admit it, Rhys.”

“And me,” Vasquez added. At a filthy look Jack shot him, he continued, “At least as a colleague.” 

“Of course,” Rhys said, fidgeting in his seat. He breathed slowly through his nose and hoped nobody noticed too much. “What could be better than having my two best fiends, my business partner and his wife, _and_ the man I’ve chosen to move in with in the same room, at the same table with me?”

“Sex,” Jack answered in a deadpan. “Sex could be better. More particularly, sex with _you_ right here at this very table.”

Vaughn’s gaze shifted down to his plate. His fingers drummed against the edge of the table. The sound of Yvette crunching down on a bite of her appetizer seemed to last forever. Adjusting himself in his seat, Vasquez straightened his tie while Andrea burst out laughing. She picked up her wine glass and raised it in Jack’s direction.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, taking a mouthful from the aforementioned glass. “Also would pay to see it.”

“Oho, would you now?” Jack said, leaning his elbows on the table. 

“Uh, hunny, just asking: what number glass of wine are you on?”

“Funny, I lost count.” Andrea dismissed Hugo’s question with a gesture. “It’s perfectly fine. I think I’m amusing your friend Jack here.”

“We’re not friends,” Jack said matter-of-factly, wedging his hand between Rhys’ seat back and his boyfriend’s shoulders to pat him. “That honor would go solely to Rhys.”

The chair wobbled as Rhys nearly jumped out of it. Again, he fidgeted, sighing. He managed to catch the gazes of Vaughn and Yvette, the pair giving him reassuring though uncertain smiles. 

The conversation at the table went on like that for most of the night. Tipsy exchanges became drunken ones, smiles wobbly, the wry color becoming completely off color. Rhys refrained from drinking himself, and he noticed that Hugo barely touched anything, either. Regardless, Rhys was exhausted by the time dessert came around, a twenty-three layer chocolate ganache cake dressed with gold filament and topped with strawberries and cream. It was decadent, almost impossible to make it through one slice alone. Which made it easy for Rhys, whose sweet tooth may as well have been legendary. He managed to eat both his and Yvette’s when she pushed it towards him after seeing his obvious enjoyment. 

“What are you up to this weekend?” Vaughn inquired as the table was getting up to leave a little afterward. Being the only one staying seated, Rhys gave a shrug.

“Don’t know yet,” he began. He opened his mouth to say more, but Jack interrupted.

“Sorry, kiddos,” he said, leaning against the back of Rhys’ chair. “Our days this coming weekend are going to be sacrosanct. I’ve planned something special in honor of Rhys kicking that goal of his’ ass.”

“Hey, I helped with that,” Hugo said, holding a teetering Andrea close to his side. “More than a little.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jack’s words were curt.

“Too bad,” Vaughn went on. “I was hoping we could maybe throw a pajama party. Order a few pizzas, stay up all night playing video games and watching movies, not go to bed until some ungodly hour. You know, like one of our old Saturday nights.”

“Ah, yeah, too bad,” Rhys agreed, managing a smile that wasn’t etched in discomfort. “That honestly sounds like fun. Maybe next weekend?”

“Am I invited?” Jack butted in, running one of his palms through Rhys’ hair to ruffle it. The other man batted at him but only half-heartedly. “I’d totally be down for that.”

“Yeah, sure thing, if you don’t find that a totally boring way to spend your Saturday night,” Vaughn told him, tone genuine.

“Hey, if there’s one thing that being with Rhys has learned me, it’s that keeping an open mind is all sorts of healthy.”

“We’ll send you our suggestions for films by Friday, then,” Yvette said, narrowing her eyes at Rhys, who still hadn’t made the effort to remove himself from his seat. “You’re not leaving yet?”

“Oh, erm.” Thinking with a Machiavellian edge, Rhys patted the slightly protruding paunch beneath his ribs. “Want to sit and digest that cake for a bit. I can barely move after eating all that.”

“You took it like a pro, darling,” Andrea complimented. Rhys had almost forgotten she and Vasquez were still there.

“Er, thanks? Me and Jack are just going to stay here for a bit longer. I don’t want to run off so fast from my own party yet, either.”

Vaughn looked around the room, which had already mostly cleared out. Only a few stragglers remained lingering at the bar.

“We’re the only ones left here,” he said, tilting his head as if poised to say more.

Rising from his seat in one smooth movement, Rhys tried not to let the wince wanting to cross his features show through. “Right. Silly of me. Jack, are you ready to leave?”

“Never been more ready in my life,” the CEO answered, standing up. He patted Rhys on the back, making the younger man glare at him. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get our asses back home. I’m sure yours can’t wait to rest itself on our big comfy bed.”

“Too much information,” Vaughn said in a sing-song voice. “I know you did not mean _rest_ as rest would be used in that sentence.”

“Are you so sure, shorty?” Jack shot back, big grin on his face. “I’m sure Rhys’ ass would just love a good rest. Why don you ask—”

“Alright, it’s definitely time to leave,” Rhys butted in, his expression pulled taut, halfway to mortified. “Thanks for coming, everyone. I’ll talk to you all soon.”

“Wait, you haven’t—”

“Come _on_ , Jack. It’s time to go home.”

The CEO allowed himself to be pulled along without further protest. Rhys waved to his friends, shooting them a forced smile as they parted ways at the entrance. Then he was heading towards the private elevators, of which would take him to whatever restricted area on Helios he might want to go, including up to Jack’s penthouse. In tow, Jack didn’t protest, managing to keep pace with his boyfriend.

The elevator ride was quiet enough. Rhys was at his limit for small talk at that point, just wanting to get home and get out of his pants and tend to himself. Not even Jack groping his ass managed a word from him. He merely turned and planted a kiss to Jack’s lips, relaying to him to keep it in his pants just a bit longer.

Once inside the bedroom, Rhys was fumbling out of his clothes. There was the telltale sound of the fridge opening in the kitchen as Jack retrieved two bottles of water. He opened one, downing its contents until he had to come up for air, passing the other to Rhys, who was currently trying to retrieve the anal plug from his bare ass. The younger man took the bottle graciously and drank nearly half of it before setting it down on the nightstand and addressing his lover.

“When I said I wanted to try new things,” he began, tossing the used toy to the bed, where it bounced a few times, “I’m not sure I was thinking quite this.”

A large hand came to rest on his backside again, cool and slightly damp. Finger trailing down, Jack poked at Rhys’ hole, the tip of the digit slipping in with surprising ease.

There was a grunt from Rhys. He jerked away. “I still need lube for that.”

“Of course,” Jack said, pulling away to retrieve said product from one of his drawers. Instead of coating his fingers in the substance, he undid his pants and zipper, reaching in his underwear to pull out his cock. Already erect and oozing pre-cum, it was slathered in an ample amount of lube. “Lay across the bed on your stomach, hands behind your back, feet on the floor.”

Allowing himself a small smirk, Rhys folded both cybernetic and flesh limb behind himself, stretching out his legs once he’d lowered his front to the mattress. The silken touch of the duvet was warm and comforting, allowing him to relax. He turned his head to the side, watching Jack from the corner of his ECHO eye.

Coming to rest on his limbs to hold them in place was Jack’s beefy palm. Before Rhys could register anything beyond that, he felt the man penetrate him, the thickness of his cock making him moan out involuntarily. It was almost always like this, Jack’s sheer size causing his muscles to flex and go taut with pleasure.

“God, I love it when you make those noises,” Jack told Rhys, plunging himself all the way inside his lover before drawing back. 

“Oh yeah?” Rhys answered, hamming it up a little before his exaggerated groan became a bit of a snicker.

“Aw, come on,” Jack whined as he found a steady, staccato rhythm. “Don’t start doing that.”

“I’m just—uhnnn—messing with you.” Breathing hard for a moment or two, Rhys slammed himself back against Jack, the slap of their flesh echoing loudly. “I’ve been wondering though,” he said between breaths. “What did you mean before, when you said there was only one ‘plus one’ you’d let join us?”

There was a long pause from Jack, who didn’t break stride to let any tension build. In comparison, his breathing was quieter, though it held a heavy undertone that made it seem like it was starting to grow ragged.

“That? That you’ll get to find out tomorrow. It’s a surprise.”

Lifting himself up partway, Rhys careened his neck so that he could gaze at Jack. He was about to say something, but at that moment Jack plunged particularly deep, striking Rhys’ prostate. The younger man cried out and clutched at his forearms, knuckles going white with the pressure. From there, Jack was relentless, pounding into Rhys with short, quick strokes, thighs and back shiny with the sweat of his efforts. Rhys moved with him, despite the weight at his back. His body tightened up, clutching Jack’s cock like some powerful clamp. He was coming before he could hold himself back, deep cries filling the bedroom as his seed spilled thickly on to the sheets. Within him, he could feel Jack twitching and pulsing, so close. The man had his teeth gritted as he chased his orgasm, riding it out even as thick ropes of cum began to fill Rhys up.

Jack didn’t pull out. Not right away, despite the cum that dribbled out between them, coating Rhys’ thighs and Jack’s balls. Only when he seemed like he would collapse did he part from his lover, flopping on to his back on the bed beside him, chest heaving. His legs like jelly, Rhys’ calves quivered until they could hold him up no longer. He pushed himself all the way on to the bed, curling up against Jack, invading his space. The CEO wrapped an arm around him, crushing him even closer, their mouths finding each other. They lay locked like that for some time, lips and tongues at war.

“So tomorrow, huh?” Rhys was asking when they finally pulled away, letting himself go limp in Jack’s arms. “When tomorrow?”

“If all goes well, then some time in the evening. We’ll be eating in tomorrow night, so they’ll be joining us around then.” 

“Well, in that case, can’t wait to meet them. That is, if they’re not entirely off their gourd.”

“Oh, no, kitten. Nothing like that. I think you’ll be rather pleased as punch.”

xxx

Dinner the next evening ended up consisting of pizza and chicken wings, which Jack and Rhys stretched out on the black leather sofa with, watching a frivolous movie that neither of them were really paying attention to. The conversation was light, Jack mocking whatever nonsense was happening on the holoscreen at the moment, Rhys snickering between mouthfuls of carbohydrates. These really were some of the best times they had together, being absolutely laid back and ridiculous without anyone around to witness it. Rhys thought about just how glorious it was as he licked buffalo sauce off his fingers. Then, surprising the both of them, he did the same to Jack, grabbing him by the palm and sucking on each thick digit with abandon.

“That’s hot, kitten,” Jack purred at the treatment.

“You taste good,” Rhys remarked. He gave a laugh, then closed his eyes, getting more into the act as Jack groaned appreciatively.

And that’s when the doorbell rang.

“That’d be for me,” Jack said, drawing away with reluctance. “Stay here a moment, would ya? No following me. I want this to be a surprise.”

“If you wanted it to be a surprise, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” Though he tried to conceal it, there was a faint grin on Jack’s face, corners of his mask creased with it. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a niggling ache at the back of Rhys’ mind that wanted to propel him up, let him peek through into the front foyer; the kind of nagging that persisted when standing very close to the edge of a cliff. He almost acted upon it, his ass rising from the couch. It was then he heard footsteps approaching the living room. A moment later, Jack reappeared.

“You’ll have to give me a moment, kitten,” the man said. He sounded serious, as if he were dealing with an emergency rather than some surprise he had in store for Rhys. “There’s some things I need to set up. You just enjoy the food and movie as much as you can.”

“Erm, alright then. Don’t take too long, okay? I might get bored, and then my curiosity will get the better of me.”

“The wait will be worth it, sweetheart. Trust me.”

xxx

He didn’t bother blindfolding Rhys, Jack, as they made their way to the bedroom. The only constant was Jack’s warm, broad palm on Rhys’ back as they meandered through the penthouse, guiding without having to force him in the right direction. By now Rhys’ curiosity was spiked into the stratosphere, honed in on whatever Jack had planned, and he would’ve followed the man into the depths of space until his blood boiled to quell it. As they reached the bedroom door, Jack told Rhys to open it. There was only the click of the lock before it slid back, silence greeting the two of them.

The silence, however, was not accompanied by an empty bedroom. In the middle of the room, suspended from the ceiling in a sling and cradle of leather straps and chains, was a naked man. Stepping closer, Rhys could see that he was blindfolded, but it did nothing to hide the craggy, jagged scar that marred the majority of his face. Even in the lowlit bedroom it was hard not to see, the hairline above the blindfold streaked with gray.

Those features gave Rhys pause. He turned to look at Jack, gaze questioning.

“Since I know you’re not really into letting _me_ do this to you anymore,” Jack said, barely raising his voice above a whisper. “I gotcha a little present.”

“So the rumors are true. You really do have body doubles.”

“Not _doubles_. _One_ bonafide doppelganger exactly. It wasn’t cost effective to make more than one with the whole DNA splicing and shit, so I started a thing with pocket watches and junk. I’ll tell ya about it another time.”

Rhys walked closer to the suspended body double, watching him as he did. The man didn’t move a muscle the entire time, the only signal he was even alive the languid rise and fall of his chest and the slight bob of his Adam’s apple. A tongue skated out then to lick his lips, the movement seeming alien with how still he was otherwise. An arm came to rest across Rhys’ shoulders. He was nearly jarred out of his skin as Jack leaned against him, squashing their bodies together.

“You can do whatever you want to him, Rhysie. It’s already been negotiated.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Rhys sighed. “Really, Jack? Come on, haven’t you learned anything from the time you’ve been with me? What’s the safe word?”

“Oh, that.” Jack pulled away, moving towards his armoire, which was carved with intricate runes for decoration. “Don’t you worry your pretty little ass off about safe words. I got that covered.”

“Then what is it?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Rhys scowled. “And don’t tell me you’ll say when you hear it, either. _I_ need to know it, too.”

“Fine, fine. It’s _Dahl_ , if you really gotta know.”

“Dahl? There’s a story behind that one, isn’t there?”

The creak of the armoire door being opened filled the room, Jack’s collection within on full display. There were multiple apparatuses on the shelves: dildos in all shapes and sizes, handcuffs and collars, floggers and a long, thin riding crop in a garish yellow; there were paddles and chains, leather gloves and ballgags.

“Sure, but not one I’m willing to tell you right now,” Jack said, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt. He undid them one by one, tossing the garment down to the carpet. He wasn’t wearing his signature layers, his chest on display, a fine dusting of salt and pepper hairs coating it. Glancing at the body double, Rhys noticed the same dusting of hair on him covering the faint tracery of many scars, ogling in awe of how much of a mirror image he actually was save for those markings. Jack was kicking his pants off when he spoke again. “Hey, _I’m_ the real deal, so you can stop making moony eyes at Timothy.”

“So his name’s Timothy?”

A sigh from Jack. He stepped out of his Hyperion branded underwear, his thick cock standing at half mast, excitement not quite peaked yet. A pair of leather shorts were put on in their place, the hems tight where they depressed the skin of his muscular thighs. There was the sound of a zipper being pulled up as he tucked himself into them. “Are you gonna get changed or what?”

The pajama bottoms Rhys wore had little patterns of stars and planets peppering them. They hung loose on his frame, having originally belonged to Jack. His t-shirt was also Jack’s, yellow with a white Hyperion logo. Most of the glaring shirt was covered by a cardigan that was the only garment that belonged to him. None of the ensemble was what could be considered sexy. Rhys rolled his eyes, leaving the silent body double to move to the armoire as well. He stripped save for his boxers without ceremony, folding his clothing in a neat pile and trading them for a leather chest harness. Jack helped him into it, tightening the straps and buckles for him until it was flush to his skin, accenting his pectorals and the blue tattoo splashed across them.

The boxers eventually came off, traded for sheer briefs that rendered him almost nude, his cock barely obscured by the fabric. Next he selected a pair of thigh high stockings, his hands smoothing over the material as if precious.

“You really like those, huh?” Jack asked him, holding out his hand. “Glad I decided to add those to our collection.” 

Just a nod from Rhys. He handed the garments over to Jack and lifted his foot, Jack crouching to help him into one and then the other. As he pulled the last one up past Rhys’ knee, his hand traveled upward, meat of his palm cradling Rhys’ balls in the underwear, squeezing.

“I thought you were giving Timothy to me for tonight?” Rhys commented.

“Let me indulge a little, eh, kitten. You look so goddam delicious like this.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “Forgetting something?”

Rising from his stance, Jack eyed the armoire. His hand reached for one of the collars, the ‘O’ rings that hung from it jangling as he fitted it around Rhys’ neck and closed the buckle. His lips descended on the other man’s then, swift and short, lacking any tongue. He did, however, catch Rhys’ bottom lip between his own, tugging, Rhys groaning.

They pulled apart, Rhys taking a deep breath. “Hand me one of the dildos and some lube.” His eyes flickered over to where the doppelganger still hung. “On second thought, give me the anal beads.”

“Oh?” Jack asked, grabbing a long, ropeish device with silicone protrusions that began small at one end and grew increasingly in size on the other. “Feeling adventurous tonight, are ya?”

Saying nothing, Rhys took the objects from him and sauntered over to Tim, setting the anal beads down on a nearby dresser. As Jack watched him, the CEO slipped into a pair of leather gloves, grabbed up the yellow riding crop, and came over as well. 

There was a sharp crack, a grunt that tore from a throat and released into the air. Jack had brought the crop down on Tim’s abdomen. Hard. 

“You like that, Timmy?”

“Yes, sir!” came the resounding identical voice. 

Again, Rhys was struck by the eerie parallel of it, staring at the body double as if he’d break from the suspension sling and attack him. Gaze flickering to Rhys, Jack shook his head, chuckling.

“You look freaked, pumpkin,” he said. “If I knew this was gonna fuck with you _that_ much, maybe I should’ve gave you the run down ahead of time.”

“It’s fine,” Rhys answered, opening the cap on the lube with a popping sound. “It’s just a little disorienting. I mean, he _is_ exactly like you.”

“Not exactly, much as I wished he would be.” Another crack, the riding crop coming dangerously close to Tim’s groin. Sweat beaded on the doppelganger’s forehead, a droplet rolling under his blindfold and down his cheek. “That right, Tim? You never really _could_ live up to the legend. But you tried like a good boy. You’re my good pet body double, right? Unlike some of those others….”

“Yes, sir!”

Something in Jack’s face twisted. He looked pained, almost as if he were the one being hit with the riding crop. 

“Are you okay, Jack?” Rhys asked, pausing in lubing up his fingers.

“Fine. I’ll be alright.” Jack hit Tim again, the flap on the crop striking his thigh this time. It seemed harder than the last two hits, and was followed by a light tap to the base of the man’s cock. Tim jumped in his constraints, making a quiet noise. “You want another?”

The same voice blurted out, “Yes, please,” and Jack struck him on the balls this time, swoosh of air indicating that it had not been a love tap. Tim howled, body squirming.

Rhys waited until Tim calmed down. Then he pressed a lubed finger to the double’s hole, Tim opening his legs wider, moving them as far as the suspension allowed. Tracing the ring of muscle, Rhys waited until the man was calm and pliant. Then he plunged his finger inside, slipping it in inch by inch, Tim’s gasp hanging in the air, as languid as the penetration. Rhys rotated his wrist, going in deeper, crooking his finger just slightly. Tim’s body drew taut like a cat stretching, his breathing audible. He moaned when Rhys inserted another finger, plunging it alongside the other in just as slow a manor.

Simultaneously, Jack was pulling down his zipper, cock straining against his shorts as it unfurled from them, standing at full attention now. The head was swollen and purpled, precum gathered at the tip in a dewy mess. Jack palmed the base and guided himself to Tim’s lips, running the glans across the pillowy skin, leaving gossamer trails.

“Open up, Timmy,” he said, the other man obeying. Jack slipped the head in, Tim’s lips stretching to accommodate it.

Looking up, Rhys caught the sight, his breath stilling in his chest. His shaft throbbed to the rhythm of his heartbeat, a flush coming over his cheeks. He didn’t know what turned him on so much about watching the double take Jack into his mouth, but things were uncoiling in his brain. Fingers slipping deeper, the slight sound that escaped Tim made ripples deep in his viscera. A sudden glance from Jack only deepened them. Rhys’ fingers were removed with a slick sound. He crossed to the dresser, eager more now than he’d been when he walked into the room. The string of beads was taken up, brought back over to where the doppelganger hung. The double’s lips had slipped further down Jack’s shaft, Jack sighing out his pleasure. Wet sounds filled the room, followed by the snap of a riding crop and Tim’s smothered cry of pleasure-filled pain.

Seizing that moment, Rhys took the first bead between forefinger and thumb. It was on the smallish side, barely larger than a ball bearing. With slow movements, as if he were wading through molasses, Rhys inserted it into Tim, feeling the double’s muscles go taut again. It gave little resistance, threading deep inside. Rhys was able to get the second bead in without much work, this one slightly larger than the last.

“Goddam, kitten,” came Jack’s breathless voice. “You could stand to go a bit easier on ‘im.”

As if waking up from a trance, Rhys looked at Jack. “I’m not the one hitting him with a riding crop.”

“Good point, if not a moot one.”

Rhys snorted, pushing the second bead in far enough to get the third one close to Tim’s entrance. This one was considerably bigger than the previous ones, taking more of an effort to work inside. From the way Tim was purring, though, it didn’t seem to give him any discomfort.

Jack remedied that by bringing the crop down on his pectoral. The jerking of Tim’s body in the sling made the beads nearly slip from Rhys’ fingers. He gave Jack a filthy look, which Jack just smirked at, gasping the next moment as Tim’s tongue flicked against the head of his cock in a particularly skilled way.

“Oh, yeah, Tim, that’s the stuff,” Jack remarked, groaning again, his hips thrusting forward. Tim made a choking sound, finding his composure in another heartbeat.

Pushing in the beads was getting progressively more difficult. Tim clenched up at the last one, which was almost as big around as Rhys’ fist. He picked up the lube again, adding an ample amount to the bead, enough that the next push moved it halfway in. The next shift of Rhys’ thumb had it wholly inserted, the entire string of anal beads now nestled snuggly within Tim.

“You’re properly stuffed now, eh?” Jack’s voice was breathless, coming out strained as he thrusted harder against Tim’s mouth. “Pull ‘em out, pumpkin,” he said to Rhys. 

There wasn’t an immediate response from Rhys. He toyed with the string, but didn’t obey. There was a tap to his harnessed chest by the crop, Jack dragging the apparatus down along his solar plexus. No words needed to pass between them. Rhys understood the implication of the gesture. He wiped sweat from his brow, cybernetic fingers toying with his harness. Then he was yanking the beads out of Tim, each emerging one by one to the sounds of the double’s choked off cries. 

With a soft popping sound, Jack yanked his cock from Tim’s mouth, spittle cascading down the man’s chin as he took a deep breath, his noises now reverberating through the room. 

“How ya feeling there, Timmy?” Jack asked, threading fingers through the double’s sweaty locks. 

“I’m good, sir,” Tim responded, Jack’s gloved palm coming down to rub his chest. He tweaked a nipple, making him whimper. That hand trailed a path to his shoulder, then the bulge of a bicep. Soon both hands were working on the cuffs that bound Tim to the sling.

“Get his legs for me, would ya?” Jack instructed Rhys.

The other man did as told, ankle cuffs released, Tim’s legs held until Rhys was guiding them to the floor. Jack lifted his upper body off the sling, the double sagging in his grip when he got his footing. His lips sought blindly for Jack’s until they found them, kissing softly at the edge of his mouth. Again, waves rippled through Rhys’ stomach at the sight, his mouth going slack.

The CEO caught the look and smirked. “Let’s move him over to the bed.”

From Rhys, a nod. He took up Tim’s other side, guiding him over to the orgy sized structure and helping him up on to it. Once he was situated, Jack moved back to the armoire, rubbing his chin clasp in consideration. While he was contemplating the toy collection, Rhys clambered up on the bed, hovering over Tim’s body, wanting a closer look at the double. He stretched out his stockinged leg and arm so that he was straddling the doppelganger, peering at him with concentrated scrutiny. Cybernetic fingers reached out, caressed Tim’s face, marveling how it was exactly like Jack’s. Tim’s cheek was warm when he leaned into the touch, face craggy where the scar cut deep into it. Of course Rhys knew Jack had that scar as well, and he didn’t dare think of how Tim had come to possess something so identical; not at the moment, for it would ruin the mood. 

Shifting upward, the material of Rhys’ stockings came into contact with Tim’s erection, the shaft heavy and warm through the fabric. The double let out an involuntary groan. It gave Rhys an idea. Instead of crawling forward, he moved backward, down Tim’s legs until he was sitting on the mattress. His stockinged feet rested on Tim’s thighs in a decidedly awkward position. He decided to remedy that by closing the gap between his feet and Tim’s cock, his toes shifting up the length of it in the sheer material.

The reaction from Tim was as swift as a rakk’s descent. His hips arched upward, pushing against Rhys’ feet, the shaft throbbing. Without any restraints, he was free to move, and he thrust against the stockings, movements truncated and jerky. 

There was a swoosh of air, a sharp crack filling the space between them. Jack stood beside the bed, holding a flogger that had just struck between Rhys’ shoulder blades. The man hissed then shuddered, seemingly unperturbed.

“You two are supposed to be behaving yourselves,” Jack said, grabbing the tails of the flogger and stretching the toy between his hands.

There was a telltale snort from Rhys. He pushed his heel against the underside of Tim’s cock, toes just grazing the head, making the man gasp and moan.

“I’m gonna cum soon, sir,” Tim said barely above a whisper, and it wasn’t clear if he was addressing Jack or Rhys in that moment. 

It was Jack’s turn to snort, a roll of his eyes accompanying it. “You always were oversensitive, Timmy.”

“Sorry,” a panted breath, “sir.”

Another snap of the flogger, this time against Tim’s skin, which was already reddened by welts left from the crop. Tim’s body jumped, cock threading through the cradle of Rhys’ feet like a string through a needle. Seconds later, he was moaning deeply, ropy streams of cum shooting from him, painting Rhys’ dark stockings with gobs of white.

Timothy had only a few moments to catch his breath. Jack was sitting him up on the bed, Rhys moving out of the way as he watched with anticipation in his eyes. In Jack’s hand, one of the the ballgags, which he fitted into Tim’s mouth until it was stretching his lips wide. The strap was closed at the back of his head, and Jack attempted to fold the man into a position of submission. Head resting on the mattress, ass in the air, the double’s arms were pulled behind his back. There was a binder with laces dangling from it on the bed that he retrieved, slipping it over Tim’s arms, lacing it up so that they were constrained. The flogger was taken back up again when he was done, coming down on Tim’s ass.

“There ya go, Rhysie,” Jack said. “All trussed up and ready for you.”

“Me?” Rhys asked, not being able to help the squeak that appeared in his voice. “What do you mean for me?”

“I told you already. Tim here was my surprise to you. Remember?”

“Yeah, but….”

“What?”

“Isn’t this a little—it’s a little weird, Jack. He looks just like you.”

“That’s the point, kitten, isn’t it?” The expression on Jack’s face was unreadable. Then it twisted into a familiar smirk, Jack’s eyes dancing with mischief. “You said it yourself at the party: you being my bottom bitch isn’t always the chosen dynamic.”

“I….”

There was an edge creeping into Jack’s tone when he spoke next. “Go on, Rhys. I did this for you.”

Humming, Rhys wet his lips, though they weren’t dry. The room had gone eerily quiet, save for Tim’s heavy breathing through his nose. Then there was the sound of the mattress shifting as Rhys crawled to the spot behind him. It was hard to deny that the sight of the man bent before him was erotic, that it turned him on in some primal way. He imagined Jack like that, stripped bare and bound, presented for him. His mind took him back to that faithful night he’d fucked Jack in the kitchen, so long ago now, yet such a vivid memory in the whole affair their relationship had been since then. He lowered his sheer underwear, his cock jutting out with a sudden pang of deep yearning.

Already prepared, it was easy for Rhys to slip inside Tim, no resistance halting his momentum. He wasn’t as thick or long as Jack was in the manhood department, but he more than made up for it with practiced skill. There wasn’t any pause in his movements, no moment to let Tim adjust. He filled the man with the entirety of his length, not stopping until he was balls deep.

“You look so hot right now, cupcake, you have no idea.”

Lungs expanding, Rhys held the deep breath he took, let it out slowly. He stared down at Tim’s unmarked backside, the doppelganger’s arms covering the arch of his spine, his broad shoulders straining. Jack took the flogger and struck him on the side, under the ribs, careful not to catch Rhys in the process. The bend of Tim’s back arched even more, muscles clenching where they gripped Rhys’ cock. The other man could hardly pull his hips back, shaft cradled and milked as if by loving hands.

“Oh, shit,” Rhys said under his breath, but Jack heard it.

“Feels good, don’t he? Almost wish I was all up in there with ya.”

Loud, muffled noises escaped from behind Timothy’s ballgag. It was clear he was trying to say something, but Jack didn’t remove the device for him to speak. He hit him again, between the shoulders. The noises increased, Tim’s head tossing on the mattress like a hog-tied skag.

“Erm, Jack, you sure he’s alright?” Even as he was saying it, Rhys was thrusting forward back into the man, the slap of skin on skin audible. 

“Oh, he’s peachy, kiddo. He’s just really, _really_ into that.”

Rhys’ gaze narrowed. “That’s not exactly the vibe I’m getting.”

“Yet you’re still fucking him. _So_.”

Drawing back, Rhys pulled out of Tim and casually slid off the bed. He walked around Jack, reaching for the ballgag to pull it down just enough for him to speak.

“Dahl,” Tim said. He coughed once and cleared his throat. “ _Dahl_ ,” he said again. 

Just like that, Rhys was yanking off the blindfold. The ballgag came off next, discarded on the bed. A pair of heterochromatic eyes rolled upward to stare at Rhys, nearly bisected by the awful, characteristic scar. 

“Thanks,” came Jack’s voice from his mouth.

After a momentary glare in Jack’s direction, Rhys reached for Tim’s arms. “You want me to undo this for you?”

“Nah,” came the answer. A strange chuckle followed, humorless with an amused edge. It was so much like Jack’s that it was unnerving. “I just need a moment. I mean, if you’re both gonna fuck me, I want to be mentally prepped for it.” 

“See, told you he really likes it,” Jack said, his elbow digging into Rhys’ side as he nudged him. 

“Ain’t what I said, Jack,” Tim snapped back, sitting up on his heels. 

“Hey, watch your tone. You’re technically still on the clock.”

“You’re _paying_ him for this?” Rhys asked, his expression incredulous.

“Well, yeah. What, am I just supposed to _not_ pay him for his time? I treat my employees better than that, Rhys.”

“Oh, do you now?”

There was a split second’s hesitation from Jack. “You know it,” he said, but there was no confidence in his voice. His words fell flat.

“Alright, if you guys are done doing whatever it is you’re doing, I’m ready.” There was an edge to Tim’s voice that Rhys would describe as disgruntled, as if him and Jack were wasting the man’s time. Validating Rhys’ thoughts, he added, “Please don’t keep me waiting.”

“We’re not the ones calling safe words here right in the middle of the good parts,” Jack reminded him.

It was Tim’s turn to snort. “Just put the gear back on me. And make sure you use a lot of lube. It’s been awhile.”

That seemed to end the conversation, Jack sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Fitted with the blindfold once more, Tim was manhandled into his lap, the man seeming to know the way even without sight or use of his arms, straddling Jack’s legs so that their chests and cocks were pressed flush together. Tim nuzzled into the crook of Jack’s neck, leaving smears of dampness in the divot where shoulder met throat. He wasn’t pushed away, though. Instead Jack grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head upward, sealing their mouths together.

The sight was something to behold for Rhys, masked lips meeting equally sculpted ones in a sloppy embrace. Desperate, quiet whimpers escaped Tim as tongues clashed together, his body arching even closer, their identical shafts creating sweet friction as they glided along each other. Then Jack was shoving the double’s head back, buckling the ballgag around him again. He didn’t waste anymore time, pouring lube on to his cock with an almost bored air, fisting it so he could massage the liquid in. He dabbed some more around Tim’s hole, getting it slick and ready once again. Then he grabbed the man by the hips, lifted and lowered him, his glans brushing a few times against Tim’s entrance before finding purchase. With a single thrust upward that tore a softened cry from Tim’s throat, he was nearly fully sheathed inside the other man. Over the double’s shoulder, he managed to catch Rhys’ gaze. The lube was tossed in the other man’s direction. Cybernetic fingers closed around the slippery bottle as Rhys caught it in mid-air. 

“So, you going to keep him waiting or what, cupcake?” came Jack’s voice, impatience evident. 

There wasn’t any reply from Rhys. He was staring at the pair with a burning intensity.

“Helios to Rhys, you still with us?”

“I’ve never, er, done anything like this before,” Rhys admitted. His cheeks burned redder as he rubbed beneath his collar with his flesh hand. “It won’t hurt him, will it?”

From Tim, garbled words squashed beneath the ballgag. Jack answered for him.

“He can take it, trust me.” A palm struck swiftly against one of Tim’s ass cheeks. “Not like he hasn’t before. You got nothing to worry about.”

It was on Rhys’ tongue to question it some more, but the expression on Jack’s face was disarming. It was the look the CEO gave him when he wanted Rhys to come completely undone. And it worked. Sometimes. Like it was doing so now. The rest of Rhys’ words were swallowed down, more primal instincts slinking out of the crevasses of his mind. He lubed himself up as Jack had, the other man widening his legs as he stepped between them. The bottle of lube was upturned over Tim’s backside, the man shivering as it dripped down to where he and Jack were joined. Rhys rubbed it in, wondering just how he was meant to fit with Jack already so snug in the double. Experimenting, he wriggled the tip of his finger in alongside Jack’s length, marveling at how Tim didn’t even flinch at the stretch. A heartbeat later, he was slipping it out, pressing the head of his own length to Tim’s hole as well. It began to slide in, constriction barring it after about half an inch. Tim groaned behind his gag as Rhys had to push forward, though it was far from a sound of pain. Soon half of Rhys’ shaft had disappeared inside the man. He could feel Jack crammed inside with him, the sensation so pleasurable it was almost unsettling. His stomach roiled with lust, his hips moving as if by their own accord, an awkward rhythm guiding him. 

Jack moved opposite him, or tried to. There just wasn’t all that much room for him to maneuver, his balls pressed to Tim’s entrance. He laid back on the bed, pulling Tim down with him to give Rhys easier access as he attempted to thrust up against him. Rhys seized the opportunity, turning his awkward thrusts to more powerful ones, the movements of his hips evening out. Soon he had both himself and Jack panting in tandem, Tim’s cries continuous as they remained drowned out by the gag. Rhys grabbed him by the binder holding his arms in place, latching on to it for leverage. He thrust hard, deep, the friction and the tightness stealing his breath.

“You just love having both of us inside you, don’t you, Timmy?” Jack teased between breaths, his teeth coming down on Tim’s throat. His bite was enough to leave behind faint impressions in the skin that glowed a harsh red.

Tim said something unintelligible, accompanied by the vigorous nodding of his head.

“Love being bound up and gagged and just helpless while we fuck your brains out.”

The words made even Rhys shudder, the sweat beaded at his hairline spilling down to leave damp tracks on his face, tickling his port. He could feel his release building slowly, starting in his balls, working up his shaft in long, drawn out licks of pleasure. Jack’s gaze shifted to him, and he rolled his hips, making Rhys gasp sharply.

“Gonna cum soon, Rhysie?”

All Rhys could manage was a nod. 

Just then Tim’s muscles spasmed, seeming to crush him in their gasp. The body double’s cock was spurting once again, this time with not as much enthusiasm as the first. Jack grunted as warm, white strings painted his abs, Rhys following suit with his own orgasm, his cry untethered. It echoed loud, his semen filling Tim in the next moment. Most of it cascaded outward, splashing against both his and Jack’s thighs. He rode things out, still thrusting even as he had no more to give of himself. 

Before he could recover, Jack pushed him back roughly. He took the hint and drew out of Tim, Jack slipping himself out of the doppelganger and tossing the other man down to the bed like discarded scrap. Tim spit out a cry that was definitely one of protest as he landed on his bound arms. 

But Jack wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. He grabbed Rhys and pushed him down with rough, brutish movements, scrambling over him as if a rabid beast that had been unleashed from a cage. Using the cum that already streaked his cock as lube, he plunged himself inside the other man, hilting in one fell swoop. Rhys let out a squeal, startled but already settling into it. He wrapped his stockinged legs around Jack’s back, pulling him in closer, his blunt nails digging into the meat of Jack’s broad, muscled back. 

It only took a few rough, powerful thrusts, Rhys’ collar jangling as he was physically jarred. Jack bellowed out his pleasure as he came, filling Rhys to brimming, his cock pulsing with each new jolt. For a long time he laid there, flopped on top of Rhys, panting hard.

Until Rhys said, “Shouldn’t we check on Tim?”

From Jack came a sigh, his head lifted so that he could gaze at the doppelganger, who had rolled on to his side and seemed to have gone silent. 

“Nah, he’s fine,” Jack said. “Let him stay like that a little longer. He likes being all lazy.”

Rhys didn’t see how Tim was being lazy, but the double didn’t make any noises or movements, so Rhys figured he wasn’t in any distress. Trapped under Jack himself, he sighed and willed his muscles to relax, his stockings skimming down Jack’s legs, causing the other man to shift inside him.

“Mmm, kitten, keep doing that and I’ll be ready to go again in no time.” Just to test it, Rhys performed the action again, this time slower. He listened as Jack’s breath hitched, but then the CEO sighed. “Hypothetically speaking. Right now I’m kinda beat.”

Though Rhys pouted, he didn’t provide a response. His legs dropped away, releasing Jack from their cradle. Some time passed, their mouths colliding in the span of it, the kisses long and deep. Rhys’ lips were swollen by the time they parted, and he sagged on the bed, as if his spirit had been exhumed from his body.

It was hard to tell how long they laid there like that, just basking in each other’s closeness, only that Tim eventually shifted on the bed and tried to say something. Jack pulled out of Rhys, then, leaving a dripping mess in the process. The other man couldn’t help but pull a face.

“I hope we’re cleaning this bed up before we sleep in it.”

“Relax, Rhys.” Jack was reaching for Tim’s arm binder, undoing the closures one by one. “I called Timmy up here for the weekend. I’ll have him change the bed sheets.”

A raucous laugh erupted from Jack, Tim growling something that went left uninterpreted. Only when the ballgag and blindfold came off was the doppelganger able to voice his opinion.

“I am _not_ doing your goddam laundry, Jack. That’s not why I’m here.”

Smacking Tim between the shoulder blades, a little too hard to be just friendly, Jack shook his head.

“You’re not being a very good sub, Timothy, are you?”

Sitting up, Tim shrugged as if it was the most casual thing anyone had ever said to him. “I’m not your sub right now.”

“True,” Jack said, reluctance creeping into his tone. His eyes narrowed and he patted his lap. “C’mere, lay down next to me.”

“Really, Jack? Can you give me a breather for at least five minutes?”

“I’m not gonna fuck you again. Rhys has been on my ass about learning about aftercare for months. It’s the least I can do.”

There was a suspicious glare to Tim’s gaze. Eventually Tim spread himself out on the bed on his stomach, a wary eye keeping track of Jack’s movements. But Jack’s hands were surprisingly gentle as they came down on the double’s back this time, rubbing in small, tight circles at first before unfolding into a full-on massage. Tim was surprised when he felt fingers also combing through his hair, smoothing it off his sweaty brow and sweeping it back into something less disheveled. He hadn’t even noticed Rhys had moved, but the man was doing his part to send the doppelganger spiraling down into relaxation.

xxx

The end of the weekend found Rhys and Jack on the couch, lazily piled atop each other, the holoscreen blaring something vapid at them. Eyes heavy-lidded, lethargy seizing them in its crawling embrace, they were barely paying attention to it. The sound of footsteps failed to pull them out of their shared stupor initially, Rhys the first to look up at the approaching figure after a couple of moments had passed.

Tim was fitted with a mask that mimicked Jack’s own, his eyes tired behind it, his body seeming to sag in place. Over his shoulder he held an Hyperion gym bag.

“I’m heading out, Jack,” he said, the wariness in his voice evident. “Don’t ping my ECHO for the next month. Rhys, it was nice to meet you.”

Rhys looked away from the holo, nodded. “Same. Maybe next time we see each other, it won’t be under such, er, particular circumstances, huh?”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Rhys frowned but didn’t supply a response. Squashed up against him, Jack cocked his head. “You’re leaving us so soon?” He patted the couch cushion beside him. “Park your ass over here. We haven’t even gotten a chance to discuss business this entire weekend. There’s a symposium coming up—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Tim said, holding up a hand. “I’ll only make an appearance if I absolutely freaking have to. Otherwise, no, get one of the watch gang to do it. I hate those fucking things.”

“Language, Timothy.”

The doppelganger sighed. “I gotta go. I need to soak these bruises for about a week, and my cat will miss me if I’m gone any longer.”

“There’s a bathtub here and I’m sure the cat will be fine.”

“Then my plants need to be watered.”

“Haven’t you heard of investing in robotic irrigation? You make enough money for it.”

“And miss the simple pleasure of a watering can? Not to mention those systems are bonafide plant murderers. Why do you think you can’t keep a single plant alive, Jack?”

“You know, he’s kind of right, there,” Rhys piped up.

“Don’t you start, too.”

“So, yeah, I’m just gonna let myself out. Security codes still the same so I can rearm the system for you?”

“Yeah, Yeah.”

A slight shake of the head accompanied Tim’s judgmental expression. “It’s a mystery to me how you haven’t been hacked and overrun by assassins yet.”

“Not funny, Tim,” Jack said, a flash of teeth showing as his lip skinned back from them. “You trying to give me a goddam coronary?”

“Nah, you’re right. Which is why I wasn’t being funny.”

With that, Tim turned on his heel and was heading for the foyer. There was the sound of the electronic doors opening up, then receding footsteps. Some electronic device beeped as the security system was reset behind him. For a long while, neither Jack nor Rhys spoke, settling back into their state of vegetation for a good chunk of time.

“We should probably make something to eat,” Rhys eventually said, drawing his legs up on the couch and stretching them out across the cushions. “No take out. I’m sick of fast food.”

“I could probably whip something up,” Jack replied, humming. “Right after this movie. It’s almost finished.”

Rhys hummed as well in response. “I really like Tim,” he said after some contemplation. “He seems like he’s a decent guy underneath all that snark.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I can tell these things. I’m real good at it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be living with you.”

“I’m glad you think of me as a ‘decent guy,’” Jack said with a snort. “Cos you’re right, of course. People just don’t have the sense to truly see it. They just think I’m a monstrous entity sitting up on high at some gigantic corporation. They have no idea what it takes or means to be CEO. You gotta make sacrifices sometimes, cut the slack, cull the herd.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

“Isn’t it?”

A yawn escaped Rhys, then, long and loud. His eyelids drooped even more. “I’m too tired for this conversation.”

There was a moment of silence that filled the room, only the low blare or the holo filling the void. Then Jack barked out a laugh.

“Course you are, cupcake. Glad you like Timothy, though, cos I got yet _another_ little surprise. We’re going on vacation to Aquator, and we’re taking him along.”

Lifting his head from where he had it resting against Jack’s side, the younger man was all raised eyebrows and incredulous expression. “You’re actually taking off time for a vacation?”

“Don’t look so shocked. This is for you, Rhys. What, you think I was just gonna throw you that lame little party? And it’s not just for a week, but two whole glorious weeks of tropical paradise. Think of it as our honeymoon without the whole marriage part.”

“Good, because if you proposed to me now, I’d probably say no.”

Jack’s expression fell as if someone had sucker punched him. “Jeez, kiddo, that’s harsh.”

“Relax.” Rhys patted Jack’s thigh. “I was just kidding. Aquator sounds lovely. I’m sure it will be, well, interesting with Tim there.”

“Your friend Vasquez and his wife are coming also.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rhys drove his elbow into Jack’s rib, a satisfying _oof_ escaping the other man. “Please tell me you’re kidding me.”

“No joke. Already sent the invite out. They said they’re definitely joining us.” Jack paused for a beat. “Hopefully in more ways than one. I might’ve told a little white lie to Andrea about only allowing one ‘plus one’ in our bed.”

“Oh…wow.” Rhys rubbed at his face with his palm, a nervous snicker emerging from him. “Okay, that’s new. I…really wasn’t expecting that.”

“Never say that I’m a predictable man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Jack. Anyway, about eating. Credits are rolling. Time to get up and cook.”

Sure enough, when Jack looked at the holo, credits were scrolling in a long line down the screen. He groaned, his head thunking back against the couch cushion. “I really don’t feel like getting up. Can’t we just call for sushi or something? That technically ain’t fast food.”

“Fine, I guess.” Lips stretching with a massive yawn, Rhys closed his eyes. A palm came down on his head, Jack stroking his hair. “As long as we’re eating it off plates this time. Just make sure you get something with eel in it. Oh, and order some tempura ice cream for dessert.”

“You think I don’t know that by now?”

Without opening his eyes, Rhys shrugged, then curled up in Jack’s lap. “You’re unpredictable, remember?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be the last story in this series, but honestly, I have such a blast with the challenge of writing these that I don't want it to really end here. I've been toying with the idea of exploring Jack's past ventures with BDSM, so maybe the next story will be a flashback tale involving Nisha or something. I'm not really sure yet.


End file.
